All of me

Once upon a time I started this blog (well, not this blog exactly) as a journal. I knew absolutely no one in the blogging world. In fact, the reason I started a blog was to pass the news of Jason and I's infertility to the rest of our families. I didn't know how to tell folks what was going on with us and the whole "baby making thing," and ended up deciding it would be most beneficial to send out one simple address for folks to click on in order to get updates. It felt like a good thing- and for the most part, it was well received.

The days continued to pass on. I met several people who were struggling with infertility issues and I was able to get some support from people who understood where Jason and I were coming from. It felt good to write down what was going on in my brain and in my heart. I was able to focus on other issues around me because I was getting some of that other stuff- you know, the stuff that gets all jumbled up inside- I was able to get that other stuff out of my head and onto what could almost feel like paper.

For some reason or another, I haven't been writing about all of that other stuff. The stuff that I think is hard or uncomfortable. The stuff that if I don't get it out, I get all jumbled up again. I don't like that so much. I need to put it somewhere. Somewhere outside of my head.

That being said...

I'm a wife. I'm a daughter. I'm a sister. I'm a teacher. And all of those things are around and inside of me constantly. I must write about them or I'm likely to explode. And that sounds messy.